


EP

by CamilleMoineau



Category: Lost
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-12
Updated: 2008-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamilleMoineau/pseuds/CamilleMoineau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing Charlie for a while, since he doesn't belong to me, but the creators of <i>Lost.</i>. Unfortunately.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Missed Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing Charlie for a while, since he doesn't belong to me, but the creators of _Lost._. Unfortunately.

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing Charlie for a while, since he doesn't belong to me, but the creators of _Lost._. Unfortunately.

A/N First posted fanfic. Concrit is most definitely welcome.

Dedicated to shyaway, for her friendship, kindness and patience.

EP

Track 1: Missed Opportunity

As much as he tries, Charlie finds that he cannot escape death's presence. He tries scrubbing the sticky blood off of his hands several times each day as he works with the meats and poultry at the butchery, but to no avail. It seems to linger in perpetuity on his skin, his clothes, no matter what he wears.

The work is hard (his cuts always seem to be off somehow, he knows it) and dangerous even with the bellyguard and glove to protect him.

Liam, as always, seems to fare better whatever he does. He went off to university as soon as he was done with school, escaping the dead-end fate of his baby brother. As usual, his father holds him up to Charlie as what he should be.

 _What he should be..._ Hadn't he joined his father's trade to earn some respect by becoming the dutiful son carrying on family tradition? As usual, through fate, Liam had won out again.

Fate. He'd put any plans of music aside, once his father had pleaded with him about helping at the shop. Charlie wonders sometimes what would have happened if he'd listened to his heart. Maybe he and Liam could have started the band they'd talked about when they were idealistic teenagers - Liam did have a pretty good singing voice, and Charlie could always play an instrument, maybe lead guitar or bass...

As he thinks about this as he passes the pawn shop on his way home one dreary, rainy night, he sees it and stops suddenly: in the window is an Ovation acoustic guitar, a gleaming ruby red, darker than the bright, wretched fluid he's been accustomed to for the past few years. He sees the price is reasonable, even for an instrument in such good condition. He knows in his heart he won't buy it, much as he is tempted; he knows that it will join the fate of the poor piano his mother bought him for Christmas - sold, or donated to a charity to someone who would actually have time to play.

After staring longingly at the instrument in the window for a few more minutes, he heads for his tiny, dingy flat in the darkness beyond, still wondering, the question on his mind of what could have been.


	2. Photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, before anyone asks, I was going to call this track "Monster Eats the Pilot," but I just couldn't seem to fit it in anywhere.

A/N: Yes, before anyone asks, I was going to call this track "Monster Eats the Pilot," but I just couldn't seem to fit it in anywhere.

Track 2: Photograph

He leans his head against the window of the taxi. He's back in Sydney once again on his way to his brother Liam's house. This time, though, things are different than when he'd been here back in September...

He missed his flight to LA. He'd woken up with a massive hangover, his head pounding. The girl he'd slept with (Lily, was it?) had left, and, as he discovered to his dismay, taken the small precious stash of heroin with her. He cursed himself for leaving it in the bathroom.

He had hoped that there would be a later flight that day, but no such luck. So, he bought another ticket for the next day. On the plane ride he prepared himself for the disappointed reactions from the record company and the remaining members of DriveShaft, and made sure that the stash he'd procured the night before was still hidden safely in his shoe.

He didn't give another thought to the significance of these seemingly mundane events until about three months later when he stumbled upon an article detailing the crash of Oceanic 815. The plane's wreckage had been found at the bottom of the ocean. Three-hundred twenty-seven people dead.

He scanned a related story about the lives of the ill-fated passengers; one picture caught his attention. She was a beautiful blonde woman with striking gray eyes. Her name was Claire Littleton. She was a fry cook in Sydney. She was eight months pregnant. She could have been in his very seat, he'd thought, and now she - lovely girl, ( _an angel_ ) - and her baby were both dead.

 _That could have been - no -_ should _have been me._ he thinks, staring blankly out of the car's window as the blinding, cheery blur of suburbia passes by _._ His foolish needs had stopped short a life, maybe two. If it weren't for him, perhaps she and her unborn child would now be alive in LA and he would be where he no doubt would have ended up anyway - dead.

He had been given a second chance at life, he knew, a chance to correct his mistakes: quit heroin, start writing music again (songs showcasing his talent, not the meaningless bubblegum pop he'd churned out the last two albums), reconnect with Liam, maybe eventually settle down with someone. He was invigorated, alive with hope, with promise, rebirth.

He knows this has come at a dear price, but nevertheless realizes this gift he's been given out of a selfish mistake and an enormous tragedy. As he opens his wallet to pay the driver, he glances quickly at the picture of Claire. She looks back, her eyes hypnotizing, her mouth (lovely as always) curved in a slightly amused smile. as if daring him to finally, for once in his life, _live._


	3. Falling Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track 3: Falling Star

Track 3: Falling Star

In the end, the death of Charlie Pace, bassist for DriveShaft was just another cliché, another footnote in the long history of rock-and-rollers who died of drug overdoses. He was in Sydney alone, according to band mates, to persuade his brother to return to the band.

The cremation was cheap. The funeral was short.

Most media ignored his death. Some commenters on message boards to either reminisce about how they used to love "You All Everybody", but most just dismissed it as a stupid bubble gum pop song. There was no big memorial (none at all, in fact) and no album of demos put together to showcase his real talent ( _such a bright star fell so fast_ ) – that had been hiding there all along, and now would never be known to the general public what had been lost.

Life went on for everyone. Everyone including one Claire Littleton of Sydney, Australia – twenty years old and eight months pregnant and now just crash-landed on a desert island in the South Pacific. She was traveling alone, with no boyfriend (he hadn't been around for months) and no close friends. She wished someone would protect her on this strange island with its eerie rumbling noises coming from somewhere in the jungle, someone to whom she could talk – about her anxieties on leaving, her pregnancy, this awful place she'd landed on. Instead, save for the daily checkups by the doctor, most people never came near her, she had to approach them. They acted as though they were scared of her, she thought. She wished someone would at least look her in the eye – nobody ever did.


	4. For No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track 4: For No One

Track 4: For No One

The Los Angeles apartment they've been living in for the past six months is immaculate, a product of the money they received from the settlement with Oceanic. They decided to play it safe, not like _some_ people who bought large houses that they eventually would have to sell. They decided instead to spend their money in a more economic way, especially with Aaron to care for. The coffee table with its neatly-stacked magazines shines, as do the counter tops, and so too do the mirrors that adore Claire's miniature-locket features.

Their relationship is not so pristine. He's been working whatever gigs he can find around town, which aren't many. He finds that his delusional prophecy to Kate about his celebrated return is beyond laughable. Record labels won't even give him a chance (not without Liam, he notes sardonically), not even after he posted what he considers his best material online. Nothing is working right for him, frustration sets in, and old habits creep back up like a shadow. His self-doubt returns, along with it the knowledge that Desmond took his place in the Looking Glass station, an act he is grateful for but remains angry at himself for being such a coward in not doing as he'd told Jack. He finds himself getting jealous of Claire's new friends that she meets at her job at the vintage-clothing shop.

She grows distant from him (or rather, more so, he realizes). She becomes suspicious of him whenever he goes out, wondering whether he's lying to her. When he comes back, she's ready to attack him with questions. It never ends well; they always end up in an argument.

Still, he tries to ignore all of this, to suppress it in his mind, figuring that everything will work out in the end. He knows he shouldn't be jealous of who her friends are.

He mustn't. She, for better or for worse, his new addiction. His salvation.

He does anyway, even knowing how incredibly foolish it is.

He finds her in a brief moment alone one rainy afternoon, standing by the large living-room window, a teacup in one hand, a blank expression on her face. She is startled by his footfalls on the tile and looks over. Her face is expressionless never more than in those gorgeous eyes the color of the sky outside. Before, where he had once seen beauty, he now sees nothing at all-he's never seen before such emptiness.

The pouring of the rain dies down. Then –

"I think," she pauses, "I think it's over." He could swear he hears a sob in her voice.

He doesn't have to ask what.


	5. This Will Be Our Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track 5: This Will Be Our Year

Track 5: This Will Be Our Year

The name of Charlie Pace, once barely identified as Liam's younger brother in DriveShaft (if it was even remembered at all) has now been eclipsed by Charlie Pace, survivor, hero. The notoriety it has brought him is fading from memory now-a year after their rescue-he and Claire notice as they walk one afternoon in Griffith Park. His left arm is around her neck, the fingers occasionally caress her shoulder, an act he would not have dared until only very recently-ever since her warm, but all-too-brief reception of him when he and Desmond returned from the Looking Glass.

The large settlement they received from Oceanic allowed them to purchase a house in the Los Feliz area, close enough for business, but in a safer environment in which to raise Aaron. His music career has taken off-slow, it was true, especially at first-but he is getting more club dates now, and working more on not only his own songs, but with other musicians who are up-and-comers wanting him to write material for them.

Their relationship has improved. Gone is his nagging uncertainty, his jealousy, his almost too-protective nature of her and Aaron; it is replaced now by a more confident, happier Charlie-a Charlie who no longer needs to cling to her or anyone else for stability, someone who is patient with Claire and her understandable reluctance to enter relationships. She is warmer now, more receptive to him and more eager to show how grateful she is to have him in her and her son's life.

It was Charlie's idea to take Claire for a picnic, a proper one this time, one guaranteed not to be interrupted before it even had a chance to get started. He could not have picked a better day, it seemed that Fate is now rewarding them for surviving all it had put them through on the island. The weather is clear and bright, the air is redolent with the dizzying aromas of surrounding flowers, and the two of them have never been happier or more secure with their lives.

They walk on, tacitly enjoying the other's presence, the path stretching out before them.


End file.
